The Stupid God is not a stupid god,
But works its mischief through those who will plod
Through life not thinking past their own small clods
Of earth--for those who have them yet, those few,
And fewer every day. What can we do
Who too late came to know that it is true
That thought and contemplation serve no end
Without a willingness to them defend,
Yet those who practice them will surely tend
To sit and with their quiet words bewail
The extent of their oncoming travail
Instead of rising to against it rail?
Little, perhaps, against the stupid tide.
The waters' rise allows nothing to hide.
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